Chapter 1: The Lies That Bind
The fluorescent lights buzzed like trapped wasps overhead, bleaching the color out of everything. Concrete walls, cold metal table, the greasy pallor of Walter’s face as he leaned back, looking bored. Opposite him, shackled to the bolted-down chair, Abdul Omar Dihoud wore a smirk that didn't quite reach the burning coal pits of his eyes. "You've got nothing on me," he said, his voice thick with contempt and a heavy Morocan accent. Arrogance radiated off him in waves. He thought the walls were still standing. He was wrong.
My cue.
The door groaned open, the sound stark against the room's oppressive silence. My heels hit the concrete floor – click-clack, click-clack – sharp, deliberate, unnaturally loud.
Abdul’s gaze snapped to me. Recognition flared, hot and immediate. The smirk vanished, replaced by a rictus of pure revulsion. The defiance curdled into something viscous, primal. Hatred.
"Aaah," he breathed, the sound a low growl that vibrated in the stale air. "The whore returns." His eyes raked over me, head to toe, deliberately slow and filthy. "Come to give another performance, eahira?
Walter shifted, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. I didn't move. The insult landed, a dull thud against the armor I wore. But it was expected. Cheap ammunition from a man who thought he was untouchable.
"You look tired, Abdul," I said, my voice cool, level. I walked further into the room, the harsh light catching the sharp lines of my suit. "Long night in a holding cell? Or just the guilt keeping you awake?"
He spat on the floor between us. A thick globule landed near my left heel. "Guilt? For what? Sleeping with a cheap American spy who smells like desperation?" He leaned forward, the chains on his wrists clinking. "You think you tricked me? I used you, you stupid eahirat. Used your warm holes for a few nights. Nothing more." His laughter was harsh, grating. "Did you think I would whisper secrets in her ears while I was fucking her raw and choking her with my belt?” He says to Walter
Walter shifted his gaze to me, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the table.
The memory off how he choked me unconscious with his belt around my neck while the disgusting pig was fucking me from behind flashed trough my mind.
Abdul’s laughter hung in the air, sour and grating.
I leaned against the table, close enough to see the whites of his eyes, the sweat beading on his upper lip. “You’re right, Abdul,” I murmured, my voice low and dangerous. “You used me. And I used you right back.”
He scoffed, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.
I pulled the evidence bag out off my pocket and dropped it on the table. The detonators inside clinked like a death knell.
Recogition briefly flashed in Abdul's eyes, as i suspected he knew what they were.
Abdul tries to lunge across the table at me, The chains on his wrists snapped taut, his face contorting in rage. "Those aren't fucking mine you lying fucking whore!
You planted them!" Abdul roared, veins bulging in his neck as he strained against the restraints. The metal chair groaned under his weight, threatening to collapse. His face had turned a mottled purple, spit flying from his lips as he screamed in my direction.
I didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. Just watched him with cold detachment, like observing a rabid dog behind bars. The more he thrashed, the more pathetic he became.
I placed my hands on the table, leaning in closer to him, my voice barely above a whisper. "
They were found in your apartment, Abdul. Under your bed." I let the silence hang heavy between us, watching as reality kicked in, the rage subsiding into cold, hard calculation.
"You set me up," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "You fucking bitch."
Abdul's voice was cold, the hatred in his eyes like a physical force. He settled back in his seat, the fight draining out of him, leaving only the calculating predator behind. "You think this is over?" he sneered. "I will get you for this bitch ." The smell off his sweat, a reminder of the man who thought he could control me with his belt, his fists, his filthy words.
"Where you're going no one leaves ,So yes Abdul i think it's over." I replied "No trial, no Lawyer just a cell in the dark, Alone, With only your thoughts and regrets for company." my voice hard, cutting like a knife.
With that i leave the room but just before i reach the door he says “The memory off fucking you while choking you with my belt until you passed out will be with me in that cell I only regret releasing the belt..”
I paused, the door handle cool in my grasp . I didn’t turn around, didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction. Instead, I gripped the handle tight, my nails digging in the metal, and pushed the door open. It groaned, a low, heavy sound that echoed in the stark room. I stepped out, feeling the coolness of the hallway after the stifling interrogation room. Before I could close the door, a voice called out from behind me.
"Paulina “ I turn to see Terrance coming out of the observation room, his face a mask of disapproval. “A word.”
I kept my face neutral, not wanting to give him any fuel for his disdain. “Sure,” I said, motioning for him to follow me down the hall. We walked in silence, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the cold concrete walls. Terrance was a small man, with a stiffness to his walk that spoke of years spent behind a desk instead of in the field. His suit was crisp, his tie perfectly knotted, not a hair out of place.
The stark fluorescents of the hallway couldn't erase the scent of expensive cologne that clung to him. He walks in to an empty office “Shut the door .” He said coldly. I did as he asked, the latch clicking shut with a finality that made my skin prickle. The room was small, windowless, the kind of space designed for debriefings and reprimands. “You slept with him?” Terrance didn’t bother to hide his disgust. He perched on the edge of the desk, his back ramrod straight, eyes boring into me.
“You send me in because he only has people he knows for decades around him his only weakness is tall blondes that remind him of the women he grew up with him in the Netherlands and you’re surprised I slept with him?,” I retorted, irritations sharpening my voice. “What did you think was going to happen? Talking all night long over a nice cup of tea ?” I arched an eyebrow, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
“And by coincidence the only evidence that was found was found by you in the room where he left you passed out in ?” Terrance’s voice was filled with skepticism.
“I don’t believe you and I’m ordering an investigation in to how you conducted yourself in this investigation “He said coldly.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. I knew this was coming. Terrance is a narrow minded pencil pusher who never been in the field.
He doesn't understand the risks and sacrifices I would make to protect my country.. he hasn't lost anybody because off terorism, he's never had his world shattered in to millions of pieces like mine was.
“Investigate all you want, Terrance,” I said, my voice low and controlled. “But this piece of shit was planning something big. Something that could’ve ended with a lot of American blood on his hands
. And now, he’s off the streets because of me.” I stabbed a finger in his direction, emphasizing each word. “So go ahead, whip out your pens and your little notebooks. Write down every goddamn detail. I don’t care.”
Terrance's lips pressed into a thin line, his fists clenched at his sides. The crease between his eyes deepened as he glared at me.
"You're on leave untill further notice," he said, his voice clipped and final.
I didn't bother to respond. Instead, I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room, leaving the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing down the hallway.